Chapter 3
The attending didn't look at my dad first. She looked at me.
She was maybe forty, hair pulled back, badge clipped to her scrubs that said Attending Physician. The nurse from before stood at the side of my bed with the monitor beeping behind me, and Lena's hand was still locked around mine. Her grip was damp. Ray was at the curtain edge where security had put him, two steps back, his blue polo tight across his shoulders where he'd been held.
"I'm Dr. Patel," she said to me, not to them. "Can I examine you, Maya? I need to press on your belly. You tell me to stop if you need me to."
I nodded. My mouth was dry. The pillow behind me was still wet where the water had hit it. I could feel the cool spot against my shoulder.
She pulled the curtain a little more closed and lifted my red t-shirt just enough to expose my abdomen. Her hands were warm. She started on the upper right, light pressure.
"Tell me where it hurts most."
"Lower," I whispered. "On the right."
When she pressed there, even gently, my whole body seized. I sucked in a breath and pulled my knees up without meaning to. My hand shot to her wrist. I didn't grab her, I just guarded. I couldn't help it.
"Easy," she said. "I felt that. You're guarding hard."
"It hurts," I said. My voice cracked.
Behind the curtain Ray let out a short laugh. "Oh come on," he said. "She does this every time she doesn't want to go to school. It's attention. She's faking it to get out of chores, doc. Ask her mom, she knows."
The nurse's eyes flicked up from her chart. Dr. Patel didn't look away from me.
"Mr.—" she started.
"Ray," he cut in. "And I'm telling you, there's nothing wrong with her. She ate junk food last night and now she wants drugs. You give her attention and she'll lay it on thicker."
I stared at the ceiling tiles. The fluorescent light buzzed. My stomach cramped again and I curled tighter, tears slipping down even though I wasn't trying to cry. I could feel Lena's hand tighten around mine.
Lena spoke without looking at him. Her voice was quiet and it shook.
"That's not true," she said.
Ray turned his head toward her. "Lena—"
"No," she said, still looking at me. She swallowed. "Dr. Patel, it started yesterday. About fourteen hours ago. Right after dinner. She said it was a sharp pain on her right side. It got worse overnight. She didn't sleep. She threw up twice this morning. She couldn't stand up straight when I got her in the car."
The words came out fast, like she'd been holding them. Dr. Patel nodded and kept one hand lightly on my arm while she looked at Lena.
"Thank you for telling me," she said. "That helps a lot. Fever?"
"Warm to the touch," Lena whispered. "I didn't have a thermometer."
"Appetite?"
"She hasn't eaten since last night."
Ray shifted his weight behind us. The security guard's radio crackled low.
"You're just going to believe that?" Ray said louder. "She's coached her. You have no idea what goes on at home—"
"Mr. Ray, I need you to lower your voice in the patient care area," Dr. Patel said. Her tone didn't rise. It went flatter, more controlled. She finally looked directly at him over the bed rail. "My patient is showing clear signs of an acute abdomen. Right lower quadrant tenderness with involuntary guarding. That is not voluntary behavior."
She turned back to the nurse and started giving orders in a steady clip, pulling a pen from her pocket.
"We need stat labs — CBC, CMP, CRP — urine pregnancy and urinalysis, keep her NPO. Fluids wide open on that IV, thirty cc's per kilo. And page ultrasound for a right lower quadrant, STAT. Rule out appendicitis, torsion. I want a portable unit in here within twenty minutes."
The nurse was already moving, hanging a new bag on the IV pole, the clear fluid swaying. She uncapped a needle and tied the rubber band around my arm.
"This will pinch," she said to me softly.
I turned my face into the pillow and let her draw the blood. Lena stroked my hair back with her other hand. I could hear Ray breathing hard behind the curtain.
Dr. Patel stepped toward the curtain edge, squared her shoulders, and spoke clearly enough that the security guard heard.
"This bay is now a protected patient area," she said. "Only the guardian parent stays. Sir, I need you to wait in the hallway chair where staff can see you. Security will stay with you. If you try to re-enter without being called, I will have you removed from the unit. Do you understand?"
Ray's jaw worked. He looked at Lena, then at me, then at the guard.
"You're making a mistake," he said to Lena. "You hear me?"
Lena didn't answer. She kept her eyes on my face.
The guard put a hand lightly on Ray's elbow and guided him back another step, out past the curtain track. The chair scraped against the linoleum in the hallway. I heard him sit, hard.
The nurse labeled three tubes of my blood and called out, "Labs drawn, ultrasound paged." The IV fluid started to run cold up my arm.
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Lena leaned forward, her green sleeve brushing the wet pillow, and whispered, "I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere."
The curtain stayed half open, and through the gap I could see Ray's dark pants and the guard's shoes planted beside his chair.
